When the plane takes off from American soil, I always release a big sigh. It finally sinks in that I am going on an adventure. This trip I was especially ready to release pre-trip tension. We flew through Atlanta on the day hurricane Helene hit Florida. The airport was pounded with steady rain and high winds in the surrounding airspace. Our flight was delayed by over three hours and I was pretty certain we would be stuck in a flooded city.

Equally appealing was flying out of an incoming hurricane zone. Hard to know what outcome to wish for in this scenario, but the flight was not cancelled. When we finally were allowed to board something was wrong with an aircraft door and we waited another 30 minutes for it to be fixed. All the while, the hurricane was inching closer and the rain was picking up. (Just in case you are wondering, these are perfect conditions for a person with travel anxiety to spiral. Luckily, I know a lot of self-regulation techniques so on the outside I look calms and collected.) I was sure we would never leave, but eventually 3.5 hours after our expected departure (around midnight), wheels left the tarmac. We ascended through really bumpy air. Everyone including flight attendants were required to remain seated until we were almost to Nova Scotia.

9 hours, a few movies, a nap, and two icky airplane meals later…we touched down in Milan. A quick walk across the airport through a fast moving customs line and we were in baggage claim. My suitcase was sopping wet! Perhaps they left it out in the rain on the tarmac for the three hours we waited for the plane. Hurricane Helene had far reaching effects.

Next, a walk back across the entire airport to the rental car office. It was really hot in the tiny office. The sales attendant moved at a snail’s pace. Since we had pre-reserved and pre-paid, we aren’t sure what took so long, nor are we sure why they wanted to double the cost for two drivers since we had requested two at booking. Not wanting to double our cost, my husband won designated driver status for the month. I was Italy with a handsome chauffeur, every girl’s dream!

The drive from Milan Malpensa airport to the town of Lesa took about an hour. We skirted the Ticino River until we reached the shores of Lake Maggiore. I was tired and just looked at the passing scenery. The road most of way was lined with houses and strip malls. As designated navigator, I had to anticipate the twists and turns that navigated us onto a new road. Meanwhile my husband was learning how to drive a stick shift (toy sized) car through round abouts, over speed bumps, and through traffic. Italian drivers are aggressive, love to speed, and have no problem creating their own lanes. Motorcycles pass all cars in the middle of the road. Gangs of bicyclists take over the right hand side of roads and frequently spread across the entire lane. Nevertheless, we arrived in one piece to be greeted by our host.

Our Italian house was quaint and already felt like home. With three bedrooms, a kitchen, living room, two baths, and a patio; we are living in Italian style. We got a quick tour and lessons on how to use the heating/cooling and how to separate trash. There are five different bins and a lot of local rules.

We deliberately chose a typical local house in a non-tourist neighborhood. While it will only be a month, we want to experience Italian living. Our host returns, quite concerned that we may have five people in the house at some point. He has only laid out towels for four. I think to myself that four towels will need to washed several times before our guests even arrive at the end of the month. I don’t understand the concern, but he fusses about having to provide another set of towels. In the guest room, one cabinet is secured with a bicycle style locking bolt around the closet handles. He used a key to unlock the closet and reluctantly handed a thin stack of bath towel, hand towel, and bidet (or what my sister in law calls the “booty”) towel to me for inspection. They are old and stiff. He indicated that we may have to pay extra for the use of the towels. I said okay and wished him a good day. There was no need for stress over a towel, and I was really wanting him to leave so I could unpack.

After he left, we did a quick inspection of our house. We each claimed closets and bathrooms, and everything was settled in short order. We needed to stay awake to fight jet lag. We also needed to get groceries. So we braved the Italian Supermercado. Pastry, Pasta, Wine…oh my. Cheese, pork, fresh veggies…all at prices that make me wonder what is wrong with America.

We had now been awake for much of the last 38 hours, and I was running out of steam. We make dinner (fresh pasta and bakery shop cannolis). I took a hot bath and put on my very damp sleep shirt (thanks to the hurricane soaked suitcase). We sat down to watch a movie and I promptly fell asleep on the couch. It was clearly time to call arrival day a success and finally go to bed.

Buona Sera!